


Contingency II

by DarkShadeless



Series: Overseer Sar [11]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: M/M, barely graphic fun, coughs, even if sometimes his plans don't quite go as planned, he serves above and beyond, let no one say otherwise, the things Theron will do for information
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-17 09:55:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14830098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkShadeless/pseuds/DarkShadeless
Summary: In which Theron continues to do his duty, or an approximation thereof.Hey, no one said he couldn't have some fun while he's at it.(If this isn't your cup of tea, the series makes perfect sense without reading this one too.)





	Contingency II

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea. Don't ask me. Theron certainly wasn't supposed to star as a side-plot and here he is.

 

 

Every other day, like clockwork, Sar goes to the cantina. He doesn’t have a standing appointment, or anything like that. If he’s honest, he’s not even sure he _enjoys_ it, as such. He isn’t what anyone would call a social butterfly.

But you don’t find contacts sitting around on your ass, and you certainly don’t foster _connections_ that way. At the very least, the people you spend time around should be used to seeing enough of you to notice when someone offs you and stuffs your corpse down a garbage chute.

That’s just good sense.

So Sar goes, he listens to peppy music, he has a few drinks. Sometimes he finds company.

Or company finds him.

 

 

 

“Hello, handsome. Fancy a drink?”

Sar pauses in the middle of taking a sip of the violently blue concoction the server droid handed him when he asked for the ‘special’, because he knows no fear and that keeps things interesting at least. He uses the motion to cover a glance at the no longer empty seat beside him.

The man lounging against the bar sets off all sorts of warning bells.

_Theron Shan, ex-SIS, member of the inner circle our illustrious Commander._

Not half-bad looking either. Still.

Call him a cynic but Sar’s well aware he’s not what the broader galaxy would define as ‘handsome’ these days. Maybe he was, once, but that was before he had a very intimate encounter with a handful of Force lightning. Face first.

The people he attracts tend to run more toward his own caste. Or the Mandalorians, maybe.

Badasses who think scars are a badge of honor. That sort of thing.

Not more or less fresh-faced ex-Reps who hang off a Jedi’s coat-tails in their free time.

“Are you… talking to me?”

His suspicion is met with a blinding grin. “Sure. See anyone else I could be talking to?”

_Half a bar. Three quarters, if you’re not picky about species._

“You know, when you lot go for ‘adventurous’ you’re not usually headed straight for ‘Sith’.”

Shan laughs as if that’s the best joke he’s heard all day. It’s more flattering than it should be.

 

 

\---

 

 

So, it turns out Theron wasn’t wrong. Sar is a damned machine. He hadn’t quite extrapolated that to other areas, though.

The Sith’s arm is a firebrand around his waist, keeping him in place like an afterthought.

The man’s all muscle. For all that Theron’s got a head in height on him he’s got both of his wrists pinned in his cybernetic hand as if he weighs no more than a damned feather while he-

“ _Fuck!_ ”

A dark chuckle, only slightly winded and how is that _fair_ , “Did that hit the spot?”

Theron would tell him exactly where he can shove it if he had the breath, which he doesn’t. It’s been stolen by pleasure and the prickle of fear that never leaves him when he’s at the mercy of an enemy in any setting.

When Lana hears about this she’ll kill him but so far this might be one of the best ideas he’s ever had. He doubts it will absolve him that this outcome hadn’t been his intention, strictly speaking.

 

 

It stays that way from the moment Sar pushed him against the wall and kisses him as if it’s a fight, through being spilled across the bed with a purred ‘ _Are you good for another?_ ’ sending shivers down his spine, right up until Theron is trying to catch his breath when the Sith is finally done with him.

A _great_ idea.

And then, while Sar is amusing himself tracing random patterns on his back and making him shake, he says apropos of nothing, “So, that was fun. Will you tell me what you want, now?”

Theron knows the second he freezes under that question that even if Sar was fishing he’s been made.

Naked, with his blasters stars-know-where and a Sith in arms reach who knows he’s been bearded, his whole plan suddenly doesn’t seem like such a good idea anymore.

 _Well, kriff_.

… _scrap it, I can work with this._

Theron rolls over onto an elbow with his best impression of nonchalance only slightly ruined by the wince he can’t iron out. His grin is as fake as it is suave. “What gave me away?”

Sar is watching him, a well-fed nexu eyeing up a prey animal, lazy but interested. On the one hand, he isn’t hungry, on the other, there’s entertainment to be had. “You know, I’d like to say it was the ex-Republican _spy_ hitting me up for drinks at the cantina but the truth is that you’re stupidly charming.”

Theron’ll take that compliment. Even from a Force sensitive carnivore in human shape. “So?”

“Let’s say a little bird told me.” … damn the Force anyhow. “What was the plan? Get me drunk, make me spill all my secrets to a sympathetic ear?”

 _Not quite but almost._ Sar reads it right off his face and laughs.

It doesn’t help Theron in the slightest that even with half his brain occupied with exit strategies the sound makes his stomach clench. His body only seems to remember that it means good things. _Very, very_ good things.

“You realize I filter intoxicants on a subconscious level, right?”

 

 


End file.
